


comfort cuddles

by blatherskite



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blatherskite/pseuds/blatherskite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm KuroMomo trash, but this hit me like a brick.</p></blockquote>





	comfort cuddles

It feels like it’s been years since Aomine had last ventured to Momoi’s house; despite living practically on top of each other and seeing one another every god damned day, she’s always the one to either show up on his doorstep or forcibly drag him outside by the collar to see the city. Given that, Aomine never feels the need or desire to visit his best friend’s house. So, when something inside him starts buzzing to life telling him _get your ass over there right now_ , his brows furrow and he huffs as he lazily pulls himself from bed.

Taking all of two minutes to exit his house and cross the lawn to Momoi’s, he ascends the porch and stands before the front door with his hands shoved in his pockets. Something is telling him to turn back, to return home and go to bed, but there’s something stronger gnawing on his conscience. There’s something telling him to get his head out of his ass, open that _fucking_ front door, and go inside.

That’s exactly what he does. The family car isn’t parked in the conjoined driveway, letting him know that her parents aren’t home. Upon entering, he doesn’t even bother to be courteous and exchange his sneakers for a pair of slippers – considering the fact he hadn’t taken the proper time to slip them on all the way, the back tab is folded over beneath his heel (something he knows he’ll regret when he finally comes to his senses).

His heart is racing for some unexplainable reason as he steps further in, eyes scanning the rather unfamiliar area – has that couch always been against that wall? Did they install a new ceiling fan? What happened to that old tacky wallpaper?

And then he hears it; it’s soft and quiet, like the whimper of a newborn kitten. His feet mindlessly carrying him upstairs in the direction of a closed bedroom door where he turns the knob and slowly pushes it open, willing it not to creak.

“Satsuki?” he calls out, voice low and laced with worry (another thing he’ll kick himself for later on).

He pushes the door open further, peeking around it like he’s trying to conceal himself from the broken sounding sobs coming from behind.

What was once a racing heart suddenly stops as he sees his best friend curled into a ball, back pressed to the headboard of her bed. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of pink lace underwear, a matching bra, and a shattered expression; something he’d normally tease her for given any other circumstance.

Her head shoots up and Aomine can see that her normally bright and lively eyes look dull and are rimmed in red. She’s quick to grab her comforter and cover herself, a hoarse and weak sounding _Aomine-kun!_ cracking in her throat as she suppresses another sob. Her hands are trembling as she tells him to get out, but he ignores her, something he’s used to doing any other time of the day. He’s hearing her words – her _pleas_ – but his body is telling him otherwise.

With haste, Aomine struts to her bed and crawls on beside her, biting his tongue and pinching his brows as she tries scooting away. He reaches out and wraps his arms around her before she can get far; one of his arms locks around her waist, pulling her into his chest, while his opposite hand rests gently against the back of her head, holding her to his shoulder.

She breaks completely then, tear-less sobs turning into messy wails. His shirt is soaked through a few seconds later, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he shifts their weights so that he’s leaning against the headboard and she’s leaning into him, being fully supported.

No words are exchanged as a large tanned hand rubs comforting circles on a petite and trembling back; nothing’s said, but Aomine’s _knows_. He _knows_ it was that asshole on the team that had been tailing Momoi, gussying her up with compliments, telling her she was the most beautiful girl in all of Tokyo – in all of _Japan_. He _knows_ it was that asshole that found himself playing with Momoi’s gentle and delicate heart. He _knows_ full well that it’s that asshole’s face that’s going to become acquainted with his fist tomorrow after classes.

The heart wrenching sobbing continues for a few more extended minutes, until it diminishes to a mild blubbering. They curl together for a few more seconds, Momoi’s head laying on Aomine’s shoulder as she sniffles and regains her tough composure. Though he knows she’s calming down, there’s something that’s keeping him from up and leaving… Maybe it’s the way her fingers are curled into the front of his t-shirt, or the way she fits so perfectly between his legs and against his chest, or maybe it’s the fact that despite having been best friend’s for years, this is their first “intimate” moment.

Despite the fact that Momoi’s frame finally stops shivering, Aomine’s arms refuse to loosen. Her eyes close as she breathes steadily in through her nose, and Aomine can practically feel the weight of her lungs expanding against his arms. When she finally speaks, her voice still sounds weak and frail, but he knows she’ll be alright, because he’s going to make it alright.

“Thank you, Dai-chan,” she says, fingers finally dropping from his shirt, leaving a fresh wrinkle.

“It’s nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm KuroMomo trash, but this hit me like a brick.


End file.
